Battle of the Drunks
by Fandom Ladies
Summary: Bacchus visits Magnolia in order to face off against Cana once again in a battle of the drink.


"Cana Alberona!" announced a boisterous voice. The whole of Fairy Tail's guild hall turned to look at the voice's owner—Bacchus Groh.

"What happened?" called Cana's easy tone from the bar where she had one hand on her knee and one curled around the handle of a mug. "Did Quatro Cerberus get boring? Or did they _get_ bored and kick your sorry butt to the curb?"

Apparently ignoring her jab at his pride, Bacchus repeated, "Cana Alberona of Fairy Tail. I challenge you. I need an opponent I can get drunk with, even if you can't go all the way." He crossed his arms and smirked. Cana flicked her hair over her shoulder.

"Challenge accepted. Whoever is left on their stool wins. And whoever loses must follow the winner's orders for one complete day. Just don't come crying for a rematch when you smash your face into the floor and have to do as I say," Cana said. Then she finished off her drink and called to Mirajane to keep them coming for her and Bacchus who strolled confidently between the ranks of Fairy Tail wizards to straddle the stool beside her.

Everyone crowded around to watch the battle and cheer on Cana since Bacchus hadn't brought any of his friends. Five rounds in, neither showed any sign of drunkenness, and the spectators grew anxious to see who would topple first, but the game paused when the guild hall's doors opened once more to permit a cloaked figure who walked with his head bowed and a sack slung over one shoulder. Cana and Bacchus—both mid-swig with mugs to their lips—stared at the person. Cana recognized him first. She slammed her glass down and stood up. "Gildarts!" she breathed in astonishment.

There was silence as Gildarts looked up and met her eyes, but the moment ended when Bacchus flung down his own drink and shouted, "I win! You're off your stool! Now you have to do _everything_ I say for a whole day!" He clapped his hands in excitement and gave her a devious look.

"What? I didn't fall off my stool!" retorted Cana.

"You said whoever was left on their stool wins. I'm still on mine, you're not," he answered smugly. "I. Win."

"What's going on? What's this about winning?" Gildarts asked, letting his bag drop to the floor.

A growl tingled in Cana's chest, but she explained, "He challenged me to a drinking game, and due to a damn _technicality_ I lost. The prize is the loser must do as the winner commands for one day."

Bacchus giggled darkly. "That's right, slave. And the first thing I'll have you do is – "

"Whoa." Gildarts interrupted him, one hand up, palm out, halting Bacchus's declaration. "I don't think so. The only thing my lovely, beautiful gem of a daughter would _ever_ do for you is call a taxi for your drunk ass. She definitely could and _would_ beat your sorry tail in a drinking contest."

There were various "ooh"s and "burn"s from among their audience. Bacchus looked around uncertainly before finally admitting stubbornly, "Fine. Then the original rules stand. And no _technicalities_ this time."

Cana smirked and planted herself on her stool. They continued their competition well into the evening, their insults gradually becoming more and more slurred. All the while, Gildarts cheered Cana on, waving banners and flags and chanting her name. The onlookers tired of the lengthy bout, and toward the end the crowd had thinned to include only Cana's closer guild mates.

Watching Bacchus over her glass, she saw him waver slightly—or perhaps that was her swaying in her seat—but then he finally slid sideways to the floor, spilling his drink all over himself in the process. Gildarts let out a triumphant whoop and grabbed Cana up in a hug. She let him swing her around simply because she couldn't think straight enough to say stop, but when he set her down, she whirled around until she caught sight of Bacchus again and mumbled, "Yer gonna do my biddin' now, mister, cause you just lost that battle."

His reply was a deep and throaty snore.

o.O.o.O.o

Cana woke up the next morning in her own bed and wondered at what time an elephant decided to stomp on her head since she certainly didn't remember it happening. Slowly, carefully, she rose and dragged herself into the kitchen for a hearty breakfast of coffee and painkillers.

_Damn,_ she thought, _I hardly ever have hangovers this bad._ The last thing she remembered from last night was – oh. _Right._ Freaking Bacchus and his freaking bets.

She gasped and almost spilled hot coffee all over herself as she poured.

_That's right!_ Because of the freaking bet, freaking Bacchus was her slave for the day!

As quickly as was possible with a screaming headache, she donned some sunglasses and a change of clothes (since she was still in the ones from last night), and went in search for her humble servant. She avoided the busy streets with all their noisy hustle and bustle, but after half an hour she plopped onto a crate behind a liquor store. Reclining her head against the brick Cana sighed and searched for ideas. Then it hit her. Pulling her purse into her lap she dug around for a moment before extracting her tarot cards. Breathing deeply, she dealt a hand for Bacchus to find where he was. The fool, the sea, and the queen—he was in some hotel on 34th Street. Cana hopped off her crate and immediately regretted it, but was soon on her way.

After finding the hotel, she casually strolled past the front desk and up the stairs. She was so good, her cards even told her the room number. Fortunately, he was only on the second floor. And when she came to his door, she took a deep breath and busted it open.

"AWAKEN, SLAVE!"

But once inside Cana discovered that instead of having been startled awake in panic, Bacchus slept peacefully on the floor, his butt stuck up in the air and drool pooling at his mouth. His snores reverberated around the room. Grimacing at the unpleasant sight, Cana stomped forward and kicked a booted foot into his side, toppling him over so that his rear no longer stood like one of the Great Pyramids. "Wake up, you slob."

But he was less than responsive, shifting his arms slightly and mumbling, "Mm… Wild!... Num num…"

Cana smirked. "Tch. Wish I could take pictures." She lifted her foot again to step on his face—in a friendly way—but he started to mutter more.

"Nn, Ca…na. Hehe…wild…"

Clenching her teeth Cana leaned down to situate him on his back then looked around until she found a marker with which she proceeded to make art on his face. When he still didn't wake, she brought out her own makeup and applied a mask of blush and eye shadow and eyeliner and lipstick. His hair ended up in ugly, short ponytails that stuck up all around his scalp. When she felt satisfied with her masterpiece, Cana stepped away and gripped the doorknob. Then she swiftly slammed it closed, yelling stomping as she did so.

It was no slavery, but his imminent embarrassment would certainly suffice. The make-up may come off easy, but she'd made sure that marker was permanent. He would live with his branding for at least three days, and it would be glorious. Cana smirked to herself as she swung open the hotel's front door and sauntered out, anticipating Bacchus's sure return to Magnolia and her sure victory in their next alcoholic battle.


End file.
